Things I've Done
by mr.muse29
Summary: The crew of Serenity has been taken, except for the Captain. He has been left brutally beaten on the dead ship. The Doctor cannot resist helping him find the ones responsible. First of two stories. Next is "Man With No Name."
1. Chapter 1 Part One

_Authors Notes:_

_Welcome to my Doctor Who Fanfictions. This is the beginning to a great crossover that I'm working on. In this one, the main characters are the Doctor and Mal. I took out the companions and side characters to make the story a little more direct and easier to read. Though they will play their parts, so don't worry. Anyways, hope you like it. And please feel free to stop by my page and check out the other Fanfictions I have cookin._

**Doctor Who/ Firefly**

"_Things I've Done"_

**Chapter One (Home Again: Part One)**

Dusty panels and blinking switches. A poor man's cosmos strapped together with rusted bolts and flaked welding. Small components to the overall beaten up space stallion. An ancient beauty road by the universes most praised and hated rebel, Malcolm Reynolds.

He sat tall in the front seat of the ship. Gripping the helm tightly, trying to keep her in place. He looked out through the dirt caked windows. Peering one last time at the morning gaze. Bellow it was Persephone. The solar system's biggest hub for black market industry. Once ripe with blood stained money, now the skid road for collared business men.

The planets dry sands illuminated on the horizon. Broken by the dawn just beginning to wake. All of the planets night life slowly flickered out as the smog's silhouette faded, shining the Captain's course. No other ships flew in. Traffic was easy.

Serenity shook softly, clinging to the gravitational field. Reading herself for the burning blaze down to the planet's atmosphere. The panels blinked and hummed. Flashing red and beeping loudly at Mal, whom seemed to do his best to ignore it. He flipped the screens power-switch back and forth. Serenity refused to obey and instead beeped louder.

Mal glared at the console and hammered down on it with his fist.

"I shi dah— I know!"

"You're out of fuel."

Mal groaned at the voice on the other side of the bridge. He looked over to see River curled up in the passenger seat. Long wet hair, tattered white dress. She too looked out at the sun. Marveling at it.

"I was just full!" he explained.

"It's been out for a while." She pushed.

He huffed again, remembering the "_low level" _warning sign earlier. He switched the auto pilot on for a moment, taking off his worn out long coat. Pulled up his wrinkled sleeves and took the helm again.

"Shoulda last us another week." He whispered to himself.

Mal unhitched the radio and turned the channel dial. Beside the arrow was Washes old scratched in labels. Clicking the mic he spoke, "Kaylee!"

The radio buzzed and popped back, screeching in his ear. He jerked it away and smacked the radio box again.

"Kaylee!"

"_What can I do for you captain," _she asked, flustered.

"I need some more push on the engine."

"_With what?" _she griped,_ "we're outa fumes and the spring coil is all broke."_

"Kaylee," he barked, "we had enough fuel for another _week_."

"_That was two weeks ago, Captain!"_

Mal clipped the radio back up and turned it off. Frowning at the monitor, he ignored what she was saying and arched the ship down. Determined to land.

Serenity grumbled, her engine screeching and popping. One of the top lights on the console turned on. The light was separate from the original make. A small bulb taped and screwed into the side of the fuel screen. Put in by Wash when he piloted the ship. Never told the others what it was for though.

Fire roared past the haul. Shaking the flimsy steel panels around the neck of the ship. The jets twisted down, creating better air flow, but it did nothing to soften the jolts. The once gorgeous sunrise was now the blind spot. A glowing haze of dry brown clouds that covered everything.

The ship ripped into the atmosphere, puttering. Mal boosted the jet power, trying to easy the decent. The jolts and humming weakened slightly. But all the lights in the mess hall started to flicker and fade. As it did, the jolts became worse.

Mal ripped the radio back off and clicked it on.

"Anything you can spare would be mighty appreciated!"

"_Trying Captain!"_

"I don't think I need to remind you about the situation we're in." He urged.

"_I can reroute the booster system to the power drive" _she explained,_ "and give a couple mins more. But that'll flat line the engine after."_

"That's fine, do it!"

Metal on metal screeched through the skin of the ship. The tail end stopped buzzing, cooling down the painful noise. But just after did the wings turn faster. Glowing yellow dust spewed out of the jets. Blasting towards the ground and yanking Serenity back into place. Just below was the main city. The ship, barely in control, dropped fast through the skies. Flying straight on a collision course with the dock.

Mal pulled as hard as he could on the helm. Kicked the bottom panel and pushed on it with his all his might. The helm fought back and shook intensely. The handles, loose, tried hard to force itself out of his grip.

Serenity jerked from the roaring fire. The winds pushed up, creating turbulence. The outer sheets of metal thundered back. Clapping against the steel structure again. The old rusted bolts clung tightly together.

The power to the jets wasn't enough. Mal struggled to keep his posture against the panel. He knew he wouldn't be able to hold on for long.

"Need more power," he thought to himself.

To the side was a cluster of switches. Labeled beside them, "Mess-hall power." He let go of the helm with his left hand. Smacking the power switches. Lights to the chambers and mid-section turned off. The inside of the ship was in darkness.

As he did, the turbulence pounded the ships stomach again. The helm swung out of control as Serenity spun off. Its nose raised high up.

Mal braced himself again. Scrambling to realign the ship. He pushed up on the wheel with all of his strength. Using both of his legs to fight against gravity and the ship. The poorly wrapped handle now dug into his hands. His palms becoming sweaty.

The helm gave way a bit as the jets realigned. But the landing gear wouldn't extend. All the power to the mid-section had been turned off. He reached for the backup drive, but where it should have been, it wasn't. Serenity eased down and lowered her nose. The ship became steady.

He pulled down the radio.

"Kaylee! I can't get the landing gear down!"

The jets gave another giant burst of yellow dust, straitening the ship more. Mal whipped his sweaty brow and yelled into the mic again.

"Revert the power back!"

Mal dropped the radio, gripping the helm with both hands. Serenity kicked up a fuss, shaking the bridge. He clicked the landing gear switch. The quiet light above the switch did nothing. He took a deep breath. His eyes darting around his seat for the fallen radio.

"Come on baby," he said to the ship, "don't do this to me."

The yellow burst from the jets dimmed. Power to the engine reverted and the landing hatch popped open. The insect-ish legs slowly stretched out. Humming normally in response to Mal's plea.

"Ha!" he said triumphantly, "Now to finish landing this thing."

Serenity dropped fast only a few miles up from the ground. The legs extended, its nose tilted down. Kaylee ran over to the back compartment pulling open the engine guard. In it was the spinning combustion chamber. The core to the ships booster drive. Loose wires and frames spider webbed out from all sides. She hunched herself up and reached into the chamber. Pulled a small lever to the far back. The lever got suck half way.

She grasped onto a hanging wire and pulled herself on top of the spinning chamber. She reached in and steadied herself on the rim. With all of her might, Kaylee yanked back on the lever. The bolt gave way as the lever flipped back. The chamber stopped dead, busting out a cloud of smoke. The fuel reading raised a hair above the empty line.

Serenity, so close to the ground. Burst with one last ounce of energy. She slowed down quickly and pushed the ground away from her as she calmly feathered to the ground. Her humming died off and the entire power to the ship crashed. Kaylee hung in the dark over the chamber.

"Um, help?"

In the bridge, one red light still shone down on the Captain. The taped bulb by the blank fuel screen. The one that Wash had installed. Mal reached up and tapped it. The bulb flickered out.

"Dead as a coffin nail."

He rubbed the panel grid.

"Welcome home," he whispered.

Behind him shone a bright light.

"Sir?" Came a voice.

Zoe stepped into the bridge. Her rough hair and stern face demanded his attention.

Mal lifted himself out of the pilot's seat. Looking exhausted, his old shirt was drenched in dirt and sweat. He held himself up on the chair and console. Taking deep breathes. Around them was the old metal room. Also dirty and devoid of power.

River spun around in the chair laughing, her arms up in the air. Her face enjoyed the warm sun that flooded in through the windows. They had landed perfectly at the docking station. Another hectic ride that turned out okay. For the most part.

"Sir, the ship…" said Zoe.

"Is dead."

Zoe's dry lips and puffy eyes hadn't had the touch of lipstick and makeup in ages. She looked in worse condition than the ship. Her tired eyes showed concerned.

"What's the damage?" She asked.

Mal rubbed his head, shaking off the rest of the roller coaster ride.

"The engine is broken. The jets are broken and we're out of fuel."

"And Mal just killed the last light." Chimed, River.

Mal grumbled at her. He nodded towards the fuel screen after seeing Zoe's confused face. She still didn't see the importance of it.

"What's it for?"

Mal shrugged.

"The Sheriff's in town." Said River.

Mal ignored her random remark and went on, "Get some flash lights together and get everyone outside. We need to get this ship back up and running."

Zoe didn't say anything else, just turned around to march off. Her leather combat boots clicked on her way down the steel hallway. Just as soon as she disappeared into the mess hall, Simon came running into the bridge. Holding his hair back and panting, he forced his words out.

"River?" he yelped, "are you okay?"

"She's fine, Doc."

Mal grabbed his red long coat, throwing it over his shoulder. The panic had passed; he had caught his breath and now it was time for business. He pushed past Simon, leaving the quiet bridge and his broken stallion behind.

* * *

><p>Bright, clean, glowing panels. Gorgeous yellow lights flooding throughout the metal and glass ship. A bizarre and wondrous room of random knobs and doodads. Bells and whistles. Leavers and wheels. Several switches that surround a center column that stretched to the magnificent ceiling. The borrowed pride to the Timelords handful of belongings.<p>

The awkward blue doors swung open. Rory, Amy came tumbling in. Followed by the Doctor whom held his composure, smiling and flinging his long bangs back.

Amy laughed, holding her stomach and reaching blindly for a hand railing to brace herself on. She covered her mouth, trying to hide the fact that she was laughing.

Rory huffed, and pushed past her. He turned around and threw his hands up.

"Alright! I give up." He said, rolling his eyes.

The Doctor closed the doors quietly. He looked back at Rory who was definitely not happy about the situation. And though his frustration was going off on Amy, something told him that he was more aggravated with him.

"I know it sounds absurd, but I could've _done _something about it."

Amy laughed again.

"Like _save _her. Why are you laughing?"

Amy caught her breath, "No yah couldn't, Rory."

The Doctor came up to him and patted him on the shoulder. He raised his other hand and was about to speak. But his words got stuck in the back of his throat, unsure of how to put it. He did empathize with what Rory was saying. But after nine hundred years of death, one just learns not to hope for the best.

"It doesn't always turn out the way you want it to," he said.

"I can imagine you _tryin _to save her. Clumsy'n around."

The Doctor held his tongue again before he could say anything else. He noticed the look in Rory's eyes. A bitter frustration, but seriousness. Unlike a child's naïvetés to the "real world." But a genuine committed look of a hero who just failed. The determination of the Last Centurion. The Doctor let go of his shoulder and leaned away a bit. He became curious as to what Rory was trying to say.

"What do you mean?" Asked the Doctor.

"I was _right _there with the bucket. I could've _defeated _the sprit, and _saved _the girl!" he said, flustered.

"Gelth," corrected Amy.

"Gelth!" retorted Rory, "I could've saved her! The writing on the tablet said that the blue spirits can be _swayed_ by water or destroyed by fire."

"They wouldn't cooperate with us, Rory," explained the Doctor, "They're memories of a dead race, trying to recreate their home planet here on Earth. They couldn't be swayed. Trust me, I've been through this before. "

"That's what we did, Rory," added Amy, "We destroyed them with fire. Or at least the Doctor did."

Rory rolled his eyes, ignoring Amy now. He looked over at the Doctor and went on.

"The Priests who wrote the tablets use sway to mean 'cleanse.' You can 'cleanse the body with water,' like baptizing. Or you can burn the body and rid them both. I had a bucket of water. I could have _cleansed the Gelth_ and _saved the girl_."

The Doctor didn't say anything. He knew Rory was right about what happened and backed off a bit. It wasn't the fact that he was right. It was the overwhelming notion that there was another choice the Doctor could have taken. He was so quick to revert to "Plan B," that he didn't think to look to his companions for assistance. There was a chance to save the girl, he didn't take it. She didn't have to die. He argued with himself in his head. Replaying the situation.

"What's done is done," said Amy, "I doubt a bucket of water could've cleansed it all the way."

"I could have tried!" he barked, "better than killing an innocent woman!"

"He's right," said the Doctor softly.

Amy went on to defend herself, not hearing the Doctor. Her tear filled, humor eyes were gone. She wiped them away to see their faces better. Readying herself for the argument. Her Scottish wit got her bumping heads with Rory. Trying to get him to side with her. To believe that she couldn't have saved her. That there was no other way.

The Doctor drowned out their voices with his thoughts. He turned away, slowly walking up to the center console. Biting his thumb and thinking hard on the situation. What he could've done. How he just killed an innocent life, like Rory had said. Even if the person was possessed, he still killed a human being in the act. The kind of person he swore to protect.

Amy squeezed Rory's cheek, "oh you're just a big boy scout, aren't you? I guess you're right, though."

Rory rubbed his cheek, "thanks."

Whatever he said to her, worked. Amy calmed down, her defensiveness gone. She hugged Rory and kissed him on the lips. Taking him by surprise.

"Now how about we talk about something else, aye?" she suggested, "you know, Doctor. If I was a Dalek, I woulda put you in the Pandorum as well."

She winked at him, even though he wasn't looking. Playfully shot at him with her fingers and strolled up behind him.

Those words sunk into his head. Cut into what he was thinking and echoed. He looked up from his fingers and into the air. Struck by the truth of things. In the end, evil corrupts.

"You're like the crotchety old man down the street. He was quick to chase kids off. Train them before they do bad things. Keep'em from messin' with his flower garden."

"Crotchety," he whispered to himself, "crotchety old man."

Their voices faded in his mind again. Leaving him alone with his thoughts. Imagining himself standing over scared kids and yelling at them about smashed plants. His head drooped as he leaned up against the control panel. Pondering on what to do next.

Amy and Rory didn't seem to notice. They went on talking about places they saw. People they met. All the goofy moments they shared together. Until Amy brought up a peculiar memory.

"Speaking of gardens," she said, "I always wanted to go to the cherry blossom garden in London."

"The cherry blossom garden?" teased Rory.

She punched him in the shoulder, embarrassed.

"Yeah," she said looking away, "Gorgeous cherry blossoms from China. They built the park to try and 'culture' the locals."

"Maybe we could go there?" asked Rory.

"Naw, it's not as cool as crystal falls." She said.

The Doctor spun around, jumping into the conversation.

"No," he said, "that's a _perfect_ idea."

"What?" ask Amy, baffled.

"What?" repeated Rory.

"There's tons and tons of wonderful places in the universe, but not _everything_ wonderful is out there. Sometimes it can be found just outside your door. Cherry blossoms!"

He smiled at them. His childish expression waiting for their reaction.

"What?" she asked again.

"Think about it," he waved his hands in the air, "big _beautiful_ gardens of blue-"

"pink," corrected Rory.

"Pink!," he said, "Pink flowers and culture. What's better than _culture?_"

The more he went on the more his face lit up. His hands waving in enthusiasm. Describing with his hands the magical sights of the trees. How they bloom and how the branches curve and droop. How the flowers fall and how the microscopic cells create a pink haze within the petals.

"Did you know," he added, "that Katsumoto fought his _mightiest_ enemy with the beauty of the cherry blossom? And that some groups mix the flowers with sencha green tea to make an antidote for some of the most deadliest diseases. But if made wrong, the tea becomes a deadly poison."

They looked at him blankly.

Rory nodded at Amy, "yeah, what he said."

She looked up at him skeptically, "Katsumoto? The Last Samurai?"

The Doctor went on, "but that's beside the point! It's time for your two honey lovers to go finish buzzing. I doubt you want to spend the rest of your wedding with this old fart."

He laughed a bit.

"But I—" she began.

"I think it's a good idea." Rory interrupted.

"Hmm."

She looked at the Doctor, unsure. Something about his expression or tone didn't seem right. She held back her thoughts to not start anything. For the Doctor to not tell them what's up means that whatever it is, is serious.

"Alright, we can go. Just let me get packed first."

"Oh, by all means." Said the Doctor.

He waved them off as they headed up to their room.

Amy called out over her shoulder, "if you feel like messing up on the flying bit, and landin' in a strange place somewhere. Feel free to!"

He didn't say anything, just nodded slightly and spun back around to the controls.

He took a deep breath, "crotchety."

With a flip of a wheel and a turn of a doodad, the TARDIS buzzed and scrapped. Shaking to life.


	2. Chapter 1 Part Two

"_Things I've Done"_

**Chapter One (Home Again: Part Two)**

"Welcome back, Malcolm Reynolds," said Badger, "nice to have you back in our establishments."

Mal smiled back, "well it is nice to be back."

Badger frowned at him and sat back down in his chair. His desk was clustered with paperwork. A queer sight for a black market business man. He licked his dry lips and took a swig from his expensive flask. One that he pulled from his dirty coat pocket.

"What do you want?" he asked, coldly.

Mal shuffled a bit, standing up straighter. "I'm just here look'n for work. You usually have a job available—"

"Usually…"

They both stared at each other in silence. Mal smirked away the stare and started to speak. But before he could Badger piped in.

"Take a good look around," he paused, "what do you see?"

He waved his hands about his desk and mimicked Mal's dumbfounded expression.

"Anything?" asked Badger.

Mal didn't reply.

"Like the mountain of depts. that I owe!" His voice was beginning to rise, "How do you expect me to pay for _any _kind of service with this on my back?" he barked.

Mal took a deep breath, "If there's a better time—"

"This here," he said, pounding his finger on the table, "is _your _fault. After your little charade in the sky, we've had nothin' but bad luck!"

"I take it you mean Miranda?"

Badger stood up, leaning over his desk. His eyes glaring at Mal.

"They spent a long time looking for you, Mal. Thought they'd gain control back by tightening the noose on rebel necks. As well as everyone else! Business is bad, and there's nothing to show for it! I'd get _more _money turning you in, then paying you for a hack job!"

His face was furious red. He leaned back and ran his hand under his sweaty bowlers hat. Took another swig from his flask and sat back down.

The room was dirtier than usual. Organized by the lack of items. Revealing the dusty ground and plastic windows. No guards.

Badger had to sell most of his belongings to keep the business running. A rat down on his luck. He was also the only one in the room. Couldn't keep up on paying bouncers, he had to send them home early. It was a poor man going broke. A small clip to the overall downfall of the entire planet. Everywhere, people were losing business. Walking away from their homes with nothing but the clothes on their backs. The rich get richer, the poor get poorer.

Badger spoke the truth on the matter. It spun Mal's stomach, the thought of it. He did what he did with Miranda, because it was the right thing to do. It would give freedom to the people. Freedom to the skies and put the "bad guys in their place." Or though he wanted to think. Really, he wanted to get back at them for the Battle of Serenity. A chance to be victorious and to shut them down. Instead, it made them angry. The Alliance military responded with force. Squeezing tightly to the reigns of the planets economy. Shutting down the black markets and making room for the higher class.

Badger nodded to the door.

He got the hint and started out.

But just before he left, Badger stopped him, "wait…"

* * *

><p>"Yep, this is definitely London."<p>

Amy huffed and slipped her hands into her coat pockets.

"Not sure why I let you talk me into this." She said.

Rory wrapped his arm around her drooping shoulders. Coddled her boredom and exasperated expression, trying to ease her pain.

"It'll be fun," he said, "adventures at home."

"With grandma," she added.

Her voice was sarcastic.

"Hey, you said you wanted to go."

"I know. But I'm having second thoughts."

They had landed in the middle of London, only a few blocks away from the Japanese garden. It was overcast, like usual. No rain, but wet grounds. Cranky drivers, double decker buses, shoppers and "mind the gap." The usual.

People bustled and gossiped. Obnoxious and noisy.

"Why would they put a garden in the middle of this?" asked Amy.

Rory huffed as well, "Tranquility."

They strolled past crowds of people, bumping into them. So close and crowded, yet so distant. Home wasn't home. A veteran of the stars, come home to an alien planet. Amy spent no time being polite and patient. She nudged her way past an old man, pushing him aside. He stumbled back, his owl glasses slipping off his crooked nose. Rory rolled his eyes and followed behind her, waving a kind gesture to the bewildered man.

"Apologies, Sir. She's Scottish."

He caught up to his storming wife.

"Making friends?" he teased.

"Let's just get this 'adventure' over with."

"Great."

They reached the corner of the garden and stopped dead in their tracks. A tall Japanese archway towered over the front iron gate. Behind it, a field of pink cherry blossom trees, statues and funky sand pits. A gorgeous splendor of exotic plants and designs. Like a portal to another world. Beautiful and alien to the cold British environment. But completely devoid of people.

Amy kicked a muddied newspaper on the ground. Its cover page had a photo of the Japanese garden. The headline, "Fake, Stupid, NOT AUTHENTIC."

"Welcome to Disney Land." She murmured.

Rory's face melted at the headline of the newspaper. His posture following suit from Amy's "told you so" expression. He brushed off the pit in his stomach and urged her on.

"Let's have a look for ourselves."

Amy picked up the foot marked paper and followed behind Rory.

Cobbled stone paths snaked around the garden. Not a single leaf or dirt spec touched the ground. The place was impeccable. Even the plants were fruitful. A nice, but out of place, plume of fresh green leaves. Mainly considering the weather conditions. Spring plants growing healthy in London's damp fall.

"I'm not a plant expert, but this place seems to be doing well," Amy paused, "like _really _well."

Rory smiled, "see, I told you it wouldn't be—"

He bit his tongue and tilted his head awkwardly.

"What?"

"Ehh—"

Rory choked on his words, not sure how to react.

"Does Buddha have furry ears and a snout?" he asked.

Amy swallowed a snort.

"Sorry, just the image of a—"

Amy too choked on her words. Seeing that Rory wasn't joshing her this time. Sitting in front of her was a statue of Buddha with wolf ears, a snout and a tail. It was made with cheap plastic and painted a tacky orange.

"Wow, talk about a foxy Buddha. Looks like something my grandmother would buy."

"Looks like something _any _grandmother would buy." Added Rory.

"Hey, it mentioned something in here about that."

"And what did London Times have to say?"

Amy buried her face in the newspaper. Squinting her eyes to make out the water stained writing.

"'Stupid, non-authentic representation of Japanese God. Distasteful and an eye soar.' The writer sure loves this place."

"Yeah, very forgiving."

Amy perked up at a thought.

"Hey, we should keep a record of this! I think I have a video recorder on this phone."

Rory looked at her skeptically, "Getting creative now?"

"Let's see…" she said.

Amy pulled out her cellphone and dabbled with the controls.

She cleared her throat and talked into the mic.

"First log of our adventures in wacko land. First finding, a gay Buddha."

He shook his head, "Very positive of you."

"I think the plants are fake. They're all abnormally… fine."

"Cause that's a bad thing."

"Let the record know that this is the last Earth adventure I plan to have in a long time."

Amy went off talking about the garden. Her words slowly turning into a mumble as Rory caught sight of an unusual structure in the middle of the garden. It was a short "Japanese" gazebo that looked almost Hawaiian. Colour of burnt bamboo and decorated in stone frames. Instead of windows, it had stone plaques with carved images. Forests and stars. Sceneries of different seasons. And unlike traditional gazebos, this one had two large wooden doors.

"Did your newspaper mention anything about a weird building?" asked Rory.

Amy looked back, "Probably."

She became captivated by it as well. The images seeming almost familiar. She described the building to her phone. Slowly walking up by Rory's side. Together they stood blank faced at the bottom of the steps. Looking up at the structure.

She frowned.

"It's missing a handle. Another 'fine' antique."

"I wonder if it opens?" asked Rory.

She perked up at the challenge. Skipping up to the front door.

The fine wood grain was smooth and aged. A new face built of old wood. She ran her hand over the circular frame around the door handle. Bumpy etchings of strange writing. She pushed at the door, but it didn't budge. So she grabbed what she could of the handle guard and shook the door. It still didn't move.

Amy stepped back, frustrated. She looked up at the framework and noticed the same etchings all over. The entire building was covered in the alien writing. It looked like a cheap rip off of the Japanese alphabet.

"Is this even Japanese writing?"

Rory shrugged.

"Eh, this place is cheap."

They both stood in silence.

"Let's go home. It's starting to get dark."

* * *

><p>"So he gave you the job?"<p>

Jane pulled off his orange beanie and scratched his head.

"That just don't make any sense."

Mal strolled along with a smile. His feet kicking up dust from the road, while Jane kept up, talking over his shoulder.

"Hey, don't be a downer. Things are lookin up."

"Yeah, and so will we. After he betrays us and leaves us lying down six feet under."

Mal shrugged, "Any place is better than here."

"Sure, but death ain't."

Mal frowned at him, "Don't be so paranoid. Not everything is bad, you know."

"Yeah, name one time things went right for us."

He paused, "Ehh—"

"See." Pushed Jane.

Up ahead through the hot sun, sat Serenity. Dead and dormant, she slept nestled behind big buildings and trashing crowds. Groups of people carrying baskets made of hay and coats of plastic sheets. The love of Mal's life sunk into the garbage pit of society.

The crew bustled around the cargo. They helped groups of people lift cargo and luggage into the haul. Kailey stood out front like a sore thumb. Baby blue cloths, fancy hair and an umbrella. She led the new guests into the ship.

"Looks like we'll be makin' more money after all." Said Mal.

Kailey caught eyes with them and ran up. Her face showing concern.

"Hey, Captain." She said.

"Kailey, what's wrong?"

She pulled her hair back over her ear and look behind her.

"We have strangers putting crates in Serenity's cargo hold, Captain."

Mal smiled mischievously, "All by luck. We got ourselves a job."

"From who?"

His stomach dropped, "Ah—"

"Badger." Said Jane.

Mal gave him a dirty look.

"Badger?" She yelped.

"Ah, well—"

Jane looked grim at Kailey, "Yeah, stupid idea, right?"

Mal glared at him again, "Jane, you mind?"

"How can we trust him? After what he did to you last time."

Kailey's look of concern got worse.

"Hey, I survived."

"With sword wounds," she pushed, "He double crossed you. And now you want to work with him again?"

"Kailey, it's okay."

"Captain," she spoke sweetly, "is your head on right?"

He huffed, throwing his arms up.

"Look, go fix the engine room. We'll be fueling up in a moment and I want her to be ready."

Five passengers had come aboard the ship. With the extra space, they were able to haul a few more than usual. Three of them came together. A short old lady with two brawny bodyguards. She was the last child to the old Crime Lord, Elsafa. The leader of the Cartels on Persephone. She never married nor had any children. Too protective and stubborn to commit or deal with kids. Power hungry. But recently, with the downfall of business and the Alliance closing in on her establishment, she decided to pick up what she had and go. Restart on some other planet.

One of the other passengers was a drunken adventurer. Lived off bars and women. Spent years hopping around Persephone in search for "something more." A poor child grown up with no family. A greasy bum praying for a destiny. Finally found a good price for a travel fee with Serenity.

The last passenger, a "two-bit sleaze." That's what the guys in the area know her as. She is a professional con-artist. Won the love of the richest guy in Persephone, then stole all of his money. Every head-hunter in the area is looking for her. Even the Alliance. A fun fact that she chose to leave out when hitching a ride. For better or for worse.

They all were shown to their rooms, where they were told to stay for the remainder of the flight. They were perhaps the only people alive who didn't recognize Serenity. Or the crew. Fugitives running away in the shadow of the most wanted.

The cargo doors closed after Serenity was refueled. Her engines rumbled to life. Pushing up from the ground and taking off into the dusty sunset of Persephone. She broke dawn and flew into the blackened sky past the planet's moon. Just outside the site of Alliance cruisers . The last unchecked area over the planets atmosphere.

She shot out in an explosion of yellow stardust.

Mal turned Serenity on autopilot. Set his destination and sat back, marveling at the sky. Everything was back to normal. No warning signs. No shaking or complaining from the ship.

Jane sat in the chair across from him. His homemade beanie stuffed in his pocket.

"So what's the job again?" he asked.

Mal looked at him awkwardly.

"You were there when we got the job."

Jane frowned, "yeah I know. I just want to be clear is all."

"We have Alliance weapons that we're shipping out. Special goods that he doesn't want to be caught with. We take them out, dump them on a nearby planet. Then head back for the rest of the payment."

"Yeah, but doesn't that seem fishy to you?"

"No, it seems straight forward."

"You heard him yourself though. He'd rather turn you in for a pretty penny, than pay us for a job."

Mal didn't answer. He stared off into space again.

"Mal."

He rolled his eyes, "what?"

"What's with the blinking light?"

"The what?"

Jane pointed to the corner of the screen. The red light that Wash put in was blinking again.

Mal looked at it quizzically, "I dunno. Probably broken."

"Sir!"

Zoey came bolting through the door. Breathing heavy.

"Zoey?"

"It's River. She says there's Alliance!"

"Alliance?" yelped Jane.

"She hasn't been wrong yet."

Mal looked back at the blinking red light.

"Zoey, check the scanner. Jane, check the cargo. Make sure our _guests _aren't flagging anyone."

Jane leapt up from the chair and ran out the door.

Zoey took Jane's spot and spun the chair to the control panel.

"She's right. We've got company on our tail!"

Jane ran down the corridor past the crew deck. Past the mess hall and into the cargo bay. He stopped dead in his track, staring dumbfounded at a strange and awesome sight.

His jaw dropped.

"What the hell?"

* * *

><p>The TARDIS sprang and popped and shifted. Bounced around, tossing the Doctor into the air. He tried to hold on tight but whatever was wrong with the ship, was out of his control. The lights flickered. The controls, unresponsive. Metal on metal screeched throughout the entire ship.<p>

"What is going on!" cried the Doctor.

He jumped up from the ground, throwing his body on the control panel and yanking on several dials and wheels.

"Just need—"

The Doctor lifted up his heavy foot and tapped the wibbly leaver with his toe. The TARDIS halted, slammed still and tossed him into the air once more.

He fell hard. Knocked his head on the cushioned chair.

He groaned, "Thanks, dear."

The ship grumbled.

His tired hand gripped the safety bar. With the last of his energy, he pulled himself up from the glass floor and onto his feet.

"Where did you take me now?" he said, pulling back his sweaty bangs.

The screen was fuzzy. Popped and fizzled, showing no signs. He tapped the side of it. Nothing happened.

"Huh, well that's strange."

Pulling out his sonic screwdriver, he flipped the monitor switch and scanned it. It bleeped.

"Metal. Lots if it."

His curious eyes wondered to the front door.

"Where did you take me?" He asked.

The Doctor hopped over to the front door and stopped. Put his ear up against the cold wooden surface and listened.

Nothing.

"Interesting."

His hand slid down the stomach of the door and clasped the handle.

"I guess I better take a look."

He twisted it and swung the door open.

"Ah, a cargo hol—"

His vision went black.


	3. Chapter 2

"_Things I've Done"_

**Chapter Two (Raked)**

The Doctor awoke, his head throbbing.

He tried to move but couldn't. His arms twisted awkwardly. Wrists, bound behind his back. His entire body felt dragged, bumped and bruised. Tossed in the corner and unconscious. Not quite the welcoming party he expected. Something cold bit his arms. A metal pole bolted to the wall. An ache that irritated his back.

He shook his dreary head. Tried to make sense of the yellow blur around him.

Small room. Messy bed. Luggage and a bizarre sliding door. Not a cargo hold and not the TARDIS. He breathed deep, trying to suck in the pain at the back of his head.

"Ouch!"

His cry of pain was elongated and dry. Out for a few hours.

"Awake I see." Came a voice.

It was deep and unfriendly. Tinted with an unmistakable accent. Improper and abused. Lowlife, he suspected. Hadn't popped in on a rich couple's home. More like a hideout. Or worse.

The voice came from a dark figure across the room. A man hunched against the wall, he seemed exhausted and agitated. A roughed up pup in defense.

The Doctor couldn't quite see the man's expression, but he could feel the burn of his unkindly stare.

"Apparently, I'm not in Kansas anymore." Said the Doctor.

"You'll have to excuse the lack of introductions. I'm still debating on riddling you with holes."

The figure slowly became clearer. The bump on the Doctor's head now subsiding. His clothes were dirty, dark and worked in. Trusty garments for a traveler.

"Ship?" asked the Doctor.

"What?"

"Ship. We're on a ship, right?"

The man stood up straighter and came closer. A limp step and dragged foot. He was in the same looking condition as the Doctor.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

"I'm the Doctor. Ship? You didn't answer my question."

The man eyed him suspiciously.

"Yes."

"Ah, good. Not a cruiser, I suspect. Nor military – based on the look of your 'uniform.' Free trader? Judging by the size of the cargo hold, this is a small class transporter. Probably no guns. Made specifically to get from point A to B."

"Don't you know who I am?" asked the man, confused.

The Doctor looked at him blankly, "No."

"Then why are you here? And who were those people?"

The Doctor shook his head.

"You'll have to excuse me. I don't know what you're talking about."

The man stepped closer again. His face now vivid.

"I am Captain Malcolm Reynolds. This is my ship, Serenity."

* * *

><p>Jane stood dumbfounded at the top of the stairs. His eyes not believing what was in front of him.<p>

"What the hell?"

A screeching, churning croak echoed through the cargo hold. Off to the side of the room appeared a giant blue box. Big glowing letters shinning on top, "Police Box."

Jane ran to the nearest radio and slammed the switch.

"Mal! Mal!" he yelled.

It took a moment, but he finally replied.

"What?" he grumbled.

"There's a ghost box! Get down here now!"

The door shifted. Something inside moved. Jane darted to it. Stopped dead in front of the door.

It started to open.

He slid to the side and waited. His heart pounding. Unsure of what to do next.

The handle clicked. The door squeaked. It swung open.

Out stepped a weird looking man in a suit and bowtie.

"Ah, a cargo ho—"

Jane bonked the man on the head. Used the butt end of a revolver. Doing the only thing he could think of. The doors to the box slammed shut as the suited man fell unconscious.

"Jane? What in go-ram were you talking about?" griped Mal from above.

He leaned over the top railing furiously, staring down at innocent Jane and a crippled looking stranger.

Mal looked down at him confused.

"When did we get a blue box?"

The haul shook violently. A thundering roar came from the beams.

"What should we do with him?" Asked Jane, his voice shaken.

"Tie him up in the back room and get up to the bridge."

* * *

><p>"<em>My men. My crew!"<em>

"Look, Captain," said the Doctor, "I promise you, I have nothing to do with whatever happened to your men. I can help you."

Mal's head drooped.

"It's too late. This ship is done. Dead in the water. It's only so many hours until its power is completely dead and we run out of air… again."

The Doctor sat up straighter.

"It so happens to be that I'm a genius at mechanics."

Mal cocked his head.

"I thought you were a doctor."

"I am," he retorted, "a machine doctor."

"Huh?"

"Hello," he smiled and tried to wave.

"Ah yes, can you help me out here? This is really uncomfortable."

Mal crossed his arms.

"You'd help me out?"

"Of course. We're both dead in the water. Two peas in a pod - or however that goes."

"_You're_ dead in the water?"

"Yep. My ship died as well when I landed here."

"Your ship? You mean that box?"

"Yes, well. It might not be as glamorous as this one. Well, it's about the same. Well actually it's a bit better. But that's aside the point."

Mal raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"How do I know that you're not just lying to me?"

"If I was, I wouldn't be here would I? The people who took your friends would have taken me as well."

He paused.

"Okay."

"Cool!" chirped the Doctor, "Now, let's get me out of these things."


End file.
